Of Elder Days
by Isdrin The Wanderer
Summary: The Varden lost the battle at Uru'baen, and Eragon’s friends and family are dying or being captured around him. He himself was too busy dying to see them part into the Void. However, the Eldunarya seem to have realised the impending doom, as they are adamant on granting Eragon and Saphira one last gift... -Time-Travel Fic!-
1. The End to a New Beginning

**A/N: Greetings, readers. I have decided to take up this important space on this chapter to give out a warning. This story, Of Elder Days, is the first story I have ever created, aside from school assignments. Inevitably, there will be repetitive words, mistakes, and various plot holes or bad writing in general. All I ask is for you, the reader, to bare with me and give out advice via PMs and Reviews. On a side note, please take note that this story's rating may change, along with the story's chapters themselves, as I may find I do not like them and wish to edit them.**

**(I own nothing but my imagination and the Original Characters.) **

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**

_"Hello."- Ancient Language_

**"Hello."- Emphasis on a word (or the beginning word of a chapter/POV change)**

_Hello- Mind-speech_

**Chapter One - The End to a New ****Beginning**

**(Year 8001 AC)**

They failed.

** He** failed.

These were the only thoughts circulating within Eragon's mind as King Galbatorix stood above him, smirking in satisfaction. The Traitor of the Riders had defeated him in a one-sided battle. The King's power was grossly underestimated. Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, Firesword, and Argetlam, was no match for the man who had triumphed over the Order of Riders.

Galbatorix had led Eragon on in a sense of false security in battle, and Eragon took the bait. When what had appeared to be a fatal opening for the King ended up being the moment Galbatorix had enough fun with him. The King unleashed a flurry of lightning quick stabs and slashes, so quick in fact, that a Shade would pale even further at the sight of them. It was almost comical that Eragon or the Varden had ever believed they could win against this **monster**. The Varden had mistaken the King for being too lazy or afraid to defeat the Varden himself, when instead it was only a perverted desire to take down the fabled Blue Rider in the castle of Urû'baen.

Eragon snapped out of his momentary lapse of concentration as the malevolent King lanced _Vrangr_ within Eragon's body. The blade sheathed itself and broke out the back of Eragon. The white bright-steel sword of legends felt cold against Eragon's body. He let out a gasp of pain and shock.

He was the last of the Rebellion. Twenty meters away lay his beloved Arya, her beautiful body marred with deep cuts, her head somewhere within Shruikan's stomach. Saphira, the partner of his heart-and-mind, was wrapped within the wings of the aforementioned behemoth Shruikan, incapacitated by enchanted slumber. Roran died nobly against Lord Bart in hopes of saving the Elven Queen, yet it was for naught. Few Varden prisoners were taken, likely for a snack for Shruikan, and the Elven army was decimated. Cheers were heard outside the Black Citadel, belonging to men not his own.

Tears streamed down his elfin face as he let out a sob. Galbatorix's smirk shifted into a grin, and he opened his mouth, surely to gloat.

_ Eragon._

Eragon's mind-voice expressed a somber sadness, _Umaroth-Elda. I am so sorry. I could not defeat the King._

Umaroth leaked sorrow and sympathy through their connection. _Even Vrael himself could not defeat the Dark King, hatchling. __Perhaps the rebellion is over, but you can live on, Eragon. We bestow a final gift to Saphira and you. What you do with it, matters not in our eyes, so long as you do not waste it._

Rumbles of agreement echoed through Eragon's link with the Eldunarya.

_ Wha-?_

Eragon cut off his tendril of thought as reality **shimmered **from the Eldunarya as they released a wave of pure energy. Galbatorix eyes widened fractionally before he snarled in outrage and fury. _Vrangr_ was pulled out of Eragon and was brought up to decapitate the Free Rider.

The energy wave hit Eragon, and he opened his mouth to scream, shout, do **something **as an onslaught of searing pain tore through his body, bringing liquid fire through his veins. He stilled abruptly, his hazel eyes rolling back within his head. He fell into unconsciousness.

**(Line Break)**

**Eragon's** eyes hesitantly crept open to sounds of chirping birds and natural ambiance. He shut his eyes in a wince as a blinding light filled them. His other pains caught up to him as his nerves felt like they had a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on them, and his chest was throbbing with a vengeance. He was forced to clutch the soft cot he lay on in silent pain, unwilling to give his torturer, Galbatorix, any satisfaction. When Eragon finally mustered up enough courage to open his eyes again, the sight of a wooded clearing met him, and within it were two men arguing.

"-**_lf _**with us, Baramond! Yah know the people are supahstitious enough to kill us if 'ey found out!" The raspy, nearly incomprehensible voice belonged to a giant of a man. He had a two-handed sword on his back, one made of iron and was obviously man-made in nature. Further scrutinizing the man, Eragon found a long tattoo wrapping around his neck, akin to a vine. The mystery man also had dark brown hair, many shades darker than Eragon's.

The other man, now identified as Baramond, sighed in exasperation, "Ademar, surely you do not mean to dispose of this wounded elf? I understand that with our line of work we cannot afford to have our morals cloud our judgement, but this is wrong, and I will **not** stand for it."

Eragon could not see much of Baramond, as his form was blocked by Ademar's bear of a body. Ademar worked his jaw, frustrated, until he finally gave in.

"Fine!" He said with a snarl, "But we get rid of 'im at first chance, yah hear?"

Eragon could almost hear Baramond's smirk. "I do, my friend."

Ademar sighed as he turned around, only to catch sight of Eragon. He sneered and walked off.

Eragon turned his gaze towards Baramond. Now that Ademar wasn't body-blocking him, Baramond was revealed to be a short man with ice-blue eyes and a strong jaw. His hair was shoulder-height, and was blonde enough to be mistaken for white. He flashed Eragon a good-natured, toothy grin. He walked closer and the rattle of two blades at his waist was prominent.

Eragon's eyes drifted around his surroundings. He was in a camp within the middle of the clearing. A fire crackled nearby, its flames reaching high above. The source of the calling birds and the peaceful crickets were the woods surrounding the camp. The woods themselves gave off a sense of familiarity within his mind, though he could not grasp where he had seen them.

"How are you feeling, elf? Your wounds were quite extent, and I nearly blacked out from the strains of healing 'em."

Eragon arched a brow in slight surprise at the man's carelessness of giving out the fact he had magical abilities.

"I believe I am fine, thanks to you, though there are aches. Nothing time and a little magic won't clear up."

Baramond nodded, seemingly taking note of his reply. "Are you hungry? I have some stew boiling over the fire." He gestured to said fire.

Eragon eyes followed his hand, and they landed on the controlled inferno. The smell from the stew was mouth-watering, as the scent of carrots and various other vegetables met him. He opened his mouth to give an affirmative, then he paused, suddenly hesitant.

_How would I know if this is not an illusion made by the King?_

Baramond, seemingly reading understanding that something was amiss, spoke to reassure him. "_I assure you, this is no trick, nor is the stew poisoned. I have your best interests in mind."_

Eragon's brown orbs widened. Though slightly botched, Baramond spoke in fluent-ish Ancient Language.

Baramond chuckled at his surprised expression. "I protected a wizard and his cargo, once. He found enough kindness in his heart to give me a rudimentary lesson in the Ancient Language. Though, as you surely can tell, I am nowhere near proficient."

Eragon nodded his head, slowly. So Baramond and Ademar were mercenaries. Whilst still unsure about the trustworthiness-or the realness-of the duo, his stomach decided before him, as it let out a screeching rumble. He sighed, seeing no point of turning down the meal, especially after Baramond swore his safety in the language of Elves. "I will accept the stew, Baramond. I appreciate it."

Baramond smiled and dismissed his thanks with a wave. He stood to procure a bowl of the stew for Eragon. When he departed, Eragon took the chance to spread his mind about his surroundings. He observed the minds of the animals around him, individually, before seeing all. Eragon gasped.

He was in the Spine, and within a clearing, no further than a league South, was the partner-of-his-heart-and-mind.

_Saphira._

**(Line Break)**

**Usage of the Ancient Language:**

_Vrangr - _'Awry' or 'Wandering' (it was used as 'Awry' above)


	2. Answers

**A/N: Welcome, readers. I announce that I will create some words of my own in the Ancient Language, and I will list definitions on the bottom of the chapters for when I use them and the original words of power made by Paolini. That is all.**

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**

**(I own nothing but my imagination and the Original Characters.)**

_"Hello."- Ancient Language_

**"Hello."- Emphasis on a word (or the beginning word of a chapter/POV change)**

_Hello- Mind-speech_

**Chapter Two - Answers**

**Baramond **looked upon the Elf with exasperation. Not eight minutes ago, the Elf jumped in a hurry to do **something**. It had startled Baramond to see someone propel themselves at such a speed. Fortunately, not enough for him to drop the bowl of soup in his hands.

The Elf collapsed soon after, likely due to the weakness of his body and the pain.

Baramond had yet to puzzle out what had happened, yet whatever it was must've been important for the Elf to ignore his injuries. He sat beside the Elf now, unwrapping various bandages and lending words of healing when he saw fit. He frowned, realizing he had yet to obtain the name of the fool-hardy Elf he took care of.

After healing a rather taxing wound, his shoulders slumped. Like the Elf nearly a half hour ago, his stomach rumbled at a level of unparalleled power. A waft of air blew through the clearing, coaxing the pine trees to dance in slow, swaying movements.

The wind blew the scent of the soup he had procured the Elf, before his collapse, in his general direction. Glancing down at the source, Baramond shrugged, surely the Elf wouldn't miss what he never had. He took up the wooden spoon and bowl, delving into its cooled delightfulness.

"Saphira..."

Baramond lowered his spoon half way up to his mouth. Looking towards the Elf, a chuckle graced the air when he found the Elf whispering in his sleep. He hadn't imagined that elves were to be so... **human**.

His chuckling stopped abruptly as the Elf twisted violently, rustling the cot and throwing his blanket off of him. Baramond frowned as he set down his bowl. He rose from his position on the ground and picked up the blanket off the forest floor, shaking off dirt and leaves. He placed the long cloth back on the Elf as a hand grabbed him. He looked down in alarm to see the Elf with his eyes wide open and teeth bared. An unnerving glint was in his eye.

"Elf?"

Seemingly snapping out of a daze, the Elf retracted his hand. Baramond frowned slightly at the sight of the Elf. Dark bags hung under eyes that told of horrors and tragedy. His hair hung at odd angles from twisting and turning in his sleep, and he looked multiple years older than he had before.

"Eragon."

The abruptness of the statement caught the mercenary off guard, as he caught himself staring at the Elf. He became curious about his outburst.

"Eragon?"

The Elf looked away, his gaze to the South. "Do not call me 'Elf'. My name is Eragon."

**(Line Break)**

**Eragon **lay in his borrowed cot, sulking. The fact that he was too weak to even go a few paces bothered him to no end. However, other things were far more haunting.

Her face.

Eragon grimaced and his heart picked up speed as the memory of Arya's death played endlessly within the confines of his mind. He remembered her, charging at Shruikan with the Elven Spear _Niernen, _then getting frozen in place through her wards and Eragon's. Galbatorix had used the **word **to shatter their magical defenses, and Arya spared him three last words.

"_I am sorry."_

He was not given time to contemplate her words, for the giant of a dragon named Shruikan devoured her head. The King took time to taunt Eragon about his beloved's death, taking delight in Eragon's pain and anger. The vengeance coursing through Eragon fed him energy, as did the Eldunarya, but they were still no match for the King's magical reserves and his horde of Eldunarya.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Eragon lifted his legs in the air, to stretch. That would take his mind off the memories that plagued him, and even benefit him in becoming mobile once more.

He rose a leg, then the other, this time with slightly more strain. Eragon noted the fact that moving was easier than it had been before. In fact, his chest was not as irritable. He concluded that he had Baramond to thank for that.

He held the position until he reached his limit. It was nowhere near the amount of time he used to be able to endure, but he was satisfied.

Eragon then began on trying to lift himself up by use of only his abs, attempting a crutch. He managed to raise himself in the air by a meager 7 inches before the pain in his torso hit him. He winced and lowered back down. Raising his hand to his chest, Eragon whispered healing words, "_Ethgrí_ _heillun undir skolm_."

A feeling akin to multiple shards of ice poking and prodding him erupted in his chest. He gritted his teeth at the uncomfortable sensation.

The feeling faded, and with its departure birthed a wave of tiredness. He lifted himself into a crutch, a relieved expression painted on his slanted face.

_Why didn't the Eldunarya assist me in that?_

_..._

_Wait._

Eragon stretched his mind to the location of the Eldunarya, the pocket of space behind him. Nothing. He furrowed his brow, puzzled to their disappearance. Perhaps the energy wave broke off all spells that were being held at the time? No, that would mean they would be left with Galbatorix, so it would be logical to assume they would not have done that. That would've only bolstered his power. Nay, there must be another reason for the dead dragons' disappearance.

He stretched his mind further, opening himself to the world. It was unnerving, for him to be so open to any and all mental attacks.

He traced the surrounding lands, observing any minuscule detail. His mind touched Saphira's, and he flooded her mind with love and longing. No response. Saphira seemed to still be under the effects of the enchanted sleep wrought from the Dark King. It seemed that he must awake her himself.

"Here."

Eragon jolted in surprise, his head whipping behind him. He grasped for _Brisingr_, the Rider's sword he created with the help of the legendary Elven smith Rhunön, reflexively, only to find it was not there.

Baramond rose a hand as a sign of peace, and in the other he held a bowl of steaming soup. Eragon's stomach quaked.

The respectable mercenary smirked, "I had believed you hungry, and unless my ears deceive me, it appears I am right."

He held out the bowl.

Eragon took it.

The starved elfling tore into the bowl, all sense of grace disregarded. It was not long until the spoon scraped at an empty bowl.

Baramond spoke, "I could get so-"

Eragon stood up, and strided over to the blazing fire. He opened the pot containing the stew and used a ladle to refill the wooden bowl. He depleted the bowl then and there, and a third.

It wasn't until Eragon's stomach was practically bulging for him to be sated of his hunger. He turned around to face Baramond.

"My thanks, Baramond. However, if you would permit it of me, I wish to ask you some questions."

Baramond arched a thick, blonde brow in mild surprise, "Go ahead, Eragon."

Eragon nodded, his head dipping in a bird-like fashion, a trait characteristic to elves.

Eragon's eyes wandered throughout the campsite, searching for a location to speak comfortably. After a fruitless search, he decided to converse on top of the cot he had been confined to earlier that day. He seated himself, gesturing for Baramond to sit in front of him.

Baramond scoffed at Eragon for acting as if he owned the area. Regardless, he followed the Rider's will.

"So," Eragon began, after Baramond was seated, "how fares the Varden?"

Baramond rubbed his chin slightly, in thought. "They grow more popular by the day. Hope of rebellion is sparked in the populace's hearts, by the Varden's actions. Hell, I think even some of the nobles in Galbatorix's court are spies for the Varden, or in the very least support them."

Eragon blinked slowly, digesting this information.

_That cannot be possible_, he thought, _the Varden and the Elves were decimated at Urû'baen..._

Something clicked, as realization flooded within Eragon, like a tidal wave of shock and obliviousness.

"Baramond, what year is it?"

Baramond gave him an odd look that clearly said "have you been living under a rock?".

"It is September 20, year 7999."

Eragon gasped. However much he rejected the notion, all the facts clearly stated that the Eldunarya had done what had believed to be impossible by Elves, Dwarves, and humans alike.

They sent him back in time.

**(Line break)**

**Usage of the Ancient Language:**

_Ethgrí heillun undir skolm - _'Invoke healing under skin'

_Brisingr_ \- 'Fire'

_Niernen_ \- 'Orchid'


	3. Reunions Unrivaled

**A/N: Hello, readers. To clear up confusion, or to sate curiosity, I announce that Eragon and Saphira have been transported roughly 2 1/2 years to 3 years back in time, and yes, Eragon and Saphira are older than they were in canon (Eragon is now 18 and Saphira is 3).**

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**

**(I own nothing but my imagination and the Original Characters)**

_"Hello." - Ancient Language_

**"Hello." - Emphasis on a word (or beginning word of new chapter/POV change)**

_Hello. - Mind-Speech_

**Chapter 3- Reunions Unrivaled**

**Eragon **crept through the camp, silent as the shadows that shied away from the burning fire nearby. He had schemed earlier that day to leave in the middle of night, to have the darkness and a light-bending spell to cloak him in escaping unseen.

He did not forget to pay his dues, however. Earlier, when the night was just blanketing the sky, Baramond had turned in to sleep early, relying on Ademar to keep watch. Eragon had planted a nugget of gold into the mercenary's pocket when his breathing evened. He hoped that was enough to pay off his debt to the man.

Presently, Eragon cursed the aforesaid Ademar within his mind as the giant mercenary swept his gaze around Eragon's current location. Eragon held a pent up breath, waiting for Ademar to return his gaze the opposite direction.

The man averted his gaze off elsewhere into the night. Eragon thanked the magic that being a Rider enabled him to use, as it seemed his light-bending spell worked, he was invisible to the naked eye.

Not waiting for Ademar to return to looking in his general vicinity once more, he ran, fast enough that a horse could not hope to keep up with him. The scenery blurred around him, trees melted into plains, and plains became a mountain range. Some nocturnal animals startled at Eragon's passing, and retreated into their dens.

When met with a rocky landscape, Eragon pushed on, not breaking pace. Instead, he lengthened his gait, to ensure that he covered more distance over the treacherous cliff he now ascended.

After tripping over a hidden root, he stopped at the zenith of a particularly harsh mountain, to take in the sight of a waterfall that fell into a pond 40 meters below and alleviate some of the pain in his now sprained ankle. He berated himself mentally for not seeing the root that caused him his injury.

While there, he went ahead and quenched his building thirst from the creek that led to the waterfall. The water was cool, yet had an odd taste to it, likely due to absorbed minerals.

He went on the move once more. Fortunately, his sprint lasted for significantly less time as he reached the clearing where he had first found Saphira when she was still in her egg.

This time there was a blue dragon the size of a house in the egg's place.

Eragon let out a laugh of pure elation, and released his hold on the spell that hid him. Despite facing the fleet-footed monster that was the King of Alagaësia, the Rider and Dragon duo remained inseparable.

"_Vakna!_" Eragon cried into the night.

The effect of the spell was instantaneous. The blue dragon rustled her wings and raised her head drowsily, the grasps of sleep not quite ready to leave the dragon.

That changed when the dragon saw Eragon sprinting at breakneck speed towards her.

In unison, the two beings entertwined their minds, and flooded each other with warm feelings of love and devotion.

Eragon lept at her, his arms reaching around her neck.

_Saphira_, he said in her mind, _oh, how I have missed you._

Saphira hummed, content with the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart so close.

_Little one, _the sapphire dragon said, her voice overwhelmed with emotion.

The two remained stilled, basking in their loved one's presence until the sun claimed dominance over the sky, and light was brought to the charred clearing in which they stood.

Saphira raised her head off of Eragon's shoulder so she could look him in the eye.

_Little one_, she began, _what has happened? It seems as if we have been transported to the Spine, yet how or why I have not figured out._

_We have been transported back in time, Saphira. By the Eldunarya._

Eragon delivered his memories to Saphira via their mind link, the short conversation he had held with Umaroth-Elda, his awakening to Ademar and Baramond, and his travel to the clearing that they currently occupied.

Saphira looked over the memories, scrutinizing every minuscule detail, to get the whole picture of the situation they were in.

_Eragon, do you know what this means?_

_Hmm? _The Rider turned to face his dragon.

_The Eldunarya have given us another chance. We can restart, except this time with more knowledge and power. Are the Eldunarya with us now?_

Eragon soaked this in. _No, they are not._

_Then it seems that reality around us has reverted. I would bet that _Brisingr _is now an ore under the Menoa, and the Eldunarya returned to the Rock of Kuthian. Not only that, but-_

_Brom, Oromis, and Glaedr! _Eragon exclaimed mentally. _They must be alive now if reality has truly returned to its state to what it was two years ago... now._

_Precisely. _Saphira spoke matter-of-factly, her voice tinged with excitement at the prospect of seeing their teachers once more.

_I believe we both know the course of action we must take then. _

Saphira sent an affirmative through feelings.

_It is time we return to Carvahall._

**(Line Break)**

_Why must I stay behind? You have always managed to find trouble everywhere you have went, and I fail to see how now would be an exception! _rambled a peeved dragon.

Eragon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. _Saphira, you know why. It'd be best the villagers did not see you, and the Ra'zac should have appeared in town yesterday, so hopefully they have left and I won't have to come across them. If not, then they will in the very least not be around Brom. I am sure they would be too afraid of his power._

Saphira growled lightly, discontent.

Eragon walked towards her then, embracing her with mind and body.

_I shall only be gone for a short while, alright? I'll drag Brom over here to speak so that I would not be parted from you any longer than necessary._

_Fine_, Saphira said, grudgingly.

Eragon smiled, _Thank you_. _I will be back soon._

Saphira snorted, blowing hot air onto Eragon's head, ruffling his hair.

_Just get it over with._

With a nod and a final message of love, Eragon took off in the direction of Carvahall. He pulled back on his speed a bit, to make him seem like a human running through the trees.

Nearly a couple hundred meters later, he skidded to a stop, his feet kicking up dirt. He mentally cursed his forgetfulness.

"_Adurna reisa,_" he whispered.

Bending down to look at his reflection in the puddle of water that was now before him, he started shaping his features to look more humane.

Eragon stood once more, with the features of a red-haired young man with a strong-jawed face. He touched his ears slightly, marveling at how odd it felt to have rounded ears. Stifling his musings, he went back on course to the village he had called home.

Upon entering the village, Eragon was hit with an abundance of memories. People of Carvahall who had passed away were in front of him, greeting him with a few bright smiles or a wave. Tears nearly overcame Eragon, yet he pushed down his overwhelming happiness. He trudged on.

He passed the small market where scarce merchants had set up stalls, advertising jewelry, food, or anything else of the sort. He even passed Horst's house, while the Smith was hammering away on a piece of metal on an anvil.

Finally, Eragon reached his destination. He walked up the steps that led to a small deck, then to the bland door that offered no decoration. Eragon hesitated. He stood at his father's door, and inside was the place of where Brom had sat, telling a younger Eragon stories of the Riders, kings, queens, and heroes long forgotten. When times were simpler, and Eragon just a naive farmboy.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Eragon steeled himself.

He knocked.

The door slowly crept open, and from it appeared a disheveled man of average stature with a salt and pepper beard. Under the older man's eyes hung dark bags, signs of a lack of sleep.

Eragon stared at the man who had come back to life. The man whom he thought he'd never see again. The man wh-

"Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you going to speak?" Brom said in a gruff voice. His arms were crossed in his chest, and his tone made his impatience clear.

Eragon lifted the jaw that he had unknowingly dropped. "Sorry. I must speak with you urgently, Brom."

The elder man's eyes held a hint of curiosity in them, and he let out a huff and gestured for Eragon to enter his abode.

Nodding his head in gratitude, Eragon shuffled passed the senior Rider into the house filled with so many of his childhood memories.

Everything was how he remembered. In the rightmost corner lay a bed, covered with fur blankets. On the center of the back wall was a fireplace, and before it was a rocking chair and a stool, the very stool Eragon had sat in when pestering Brom for more stories. Between the chair and the stool was a small table, adorned with an even smaller dish filled with ashes and a pipe, and a small cup of steaming blueberry tea. Bookshelves covered the remaining walls, yellow texts and worn books taking the majority of the space. However, there were a few bags of varying shapes and sizes, and one even had a peculiar cuboid form. On the left side of the house was a table next to a window, to observe the landscape outside while eating. A singular cushioned chair was at the head of the table, reserved for Brom and Brom alone.

Closing the door behind him, Brom made his way to the rocking chair. Before sitting himself, he picked up the pipe and lit it with a quiet _Brisingr_.

The man looked up at Eragon and spoke, "Sit down, Elf, and take off your disguise while you're at it. No need to hide from me, since I am _Vinr Älfakyn_."

Eragon bore a stupefied look, oblivious to how Brom saw through him.

"You're footsteps are quiet. Too quiet. No human can achieve that through any normal means, and your mind is also different from a human's." Brom spoke in a lecturing voice, as if he were about to begin a lesson with Eragon.

Eragon nodded his head, and shaped his body into what it once was. Now, with his disguise off, Eragon began in the Ancient Language.

_"Let's see, I don't exactly know where to begin, or even how to explain. How about short, sweet, and recent. I am from the future and I was sent back in time from the power of over 100 Eldunarya. I am also Eragon Bromsson. Your son._"

Brom's eyes widened to the point to where Eragon feared they would burst from his skull. The older man's jaws flapped open and closed, like a fish out of water.

Finally, he managed to get a few words out. "You-wha-**how**?"

Eragon could not help it any longer. Through all the emotional strain he had went through during the past few days, he let it all out.

He laughed.

He laughed and laughed, until tears were rolling down his face, until his laughter turned to violent sobs.

He rose his hand, wiping away his tears away. "Pardon the outburst, Brom. It has been quite straining, these past few days."

"It is... quite alright. Please, take your time and let it out, son. It would be blasphemous to keep that bottled up." Brom's tone was reassuring, father-like.

"I assure you, I am finished. Now, I hate doing this, but would you join me for a journey in the Spine? I believe it would be easier to tell my tale there."

Brom nodded, and rose from his chair. Eragon began working on molding his features once more, retaining the face of his disguise from previously that day.

When he finished with his disguise, the reunited father and son pair emerged from the cozy house, and traveled down the main road in Carvahall, and into the Spine. While traveling, they conversed mentally, with Eragon giving details of the life he had been leading up until then. In return, Brom told of how the younger version of Eragon disappeared on a hunting trip in the Spine. He spoke of how Garrow and Roran was devastated, and how a search party had scoured the Spine for Eragon, only to come back with a report of how the young farmboy had been wiped off the face of the Earth.

_How are Uncle and Roran dealing with the news of... my disappearance? _asked the younger of the two.

_Not well_,replied the eldest, _they refuse to give on you, yet it is clear they are slowly giving up hope._

Eragon swallowed a re-emerging lump in his throat. _When this war is over, I will show myself to them. I do not wish to have them entertwined with the dangerous path I will lead._

_It may not be up to you to decide their fate, boy. Some way or another, Garrow and Roran will find a way to get themselves in this mess. I can feel it._

Eragon looked to his father, a sorrowful look in his eyes. It was soon replaced with a jovial one, however, when a mental shout was heard.

_Eragon!_

_Saphira!_

A shadow loomed over the two men, accompanied by the sound of heavy wingbeats. Saphira descended from the air, blue flames spewing from her open maw.

Eragon grinned, as Brom gasped, the older man's eyes wide at the display of prowess.

Walking forward with quick steps, Eragon took Saphira's head in his hands, pressing it to his forehead. He scratched her chin. Saphira released her grating purring sound.

_I told you I would be back soon_, Eragon mentally conversed.

_Indeed you did, Little one_, replied Saphira.

Eragon backed away from Saphira as slow, crawling steps were heard behind him. He faced the source, and was met with a gaping Brom.

Brom, eyes twinkling with an indeterminable glee, place two fingers on his lips.

"Greetings, o' graceful one. What name do you carry?"

Saphira lowered her head to the height of Brom, _Saphira, Brom-elda. I am sure you do not know, but we traveled quite extensively together, the three of us._

Brom's face twisted into a grimace at the knowledge of the blue dragon's name. An old pain had resurfaced.

"You are quite right, Saphira," he said, "I do not recall of ever traveling with Eragon and you. Perhaps it is because you traveled with a Brom from a different reality entirely?"

Saphira dipped her head, a habit she obtained from being with humans her entire life.

"I admit, this entire predicament is quite... unnerving. Albeit fascinating as well," he paused, gathering his thoughts, "Where do we go from here? To the Varden or the Elves?"

"Neither," spoke Eragon, "we go to Gil'ead. There we will save Arya, and even kill a Shade, if provided the chance."

"Very well. When shall we leave?" inquired Brom, stroking his beard all the while.

"The sooner the better. I do not wish for Arya to experience too much of... what she had before." said Eragon, grimacing at the images of Arya's state after the escape from Gil'ead.

Brom nodded, "Then I will grab a few necessities from my house, then we will leave. Oh, and I will burn my house. I won't let the Empire get anything useful out of me, however much I do not want to see those texts in ashes..." He trailed off, remorseful.

With a sympathetic look, Eragon patted Brom on the back. "It is about time Alagaësia is saved."

**(Line Break)**

**Usage of the Ancient Language:**

_Brisingr - _'Fire'

_Vakna - _'Awaken'


	4. Traveling

**A/N: Salutations, readers. For those who have reviewed, I thank you from the deepest crevices of my heart. Special thanks to ddsurvivor and BloodWolf2479 for their inspirational or helpful comment(s). Now, without further ado, I present chapter 4 of 'Of Elder Days'.**

**(I own nothing but my imagination and the Original Characters)**

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**

_"Hello." - Ancient Language_

**"Hello." - Emphasis on a word (or beginning word of a chapter/POV change)**

_Hello. - Mind-speech_

**Chapter 4- Traveling**

**The **trio stood on a cliff top, observing the glorious flaming pyre that was Brom's residence. Within it burned ancient scrolls and texts that held an agglomeration of knowledge. The villagers were ants from their view, crawling from one place or another, trying to tame the fire. They had no chance of quelling the flames, however, for they were enchanted. When the house becomes mere ashes, the flames would die out.

A solemn silence stretched out between Riders and Dragon as the eldest Rider's ties to this village was incinerated. Faint sounds of shouts and cries of panic reached them, prayers for help to arrive or for a simmering ash to not wander and light a thatched housing on fire. It gave Eragon a feeling of penitence, seeing the misery and fear of the villagers he had conversed and grew up with, like he was betraying them.

Brom's face was a mask of indifference, his chafed lips not in smile nor frown. It was eerie, to see one so uncaring about the burning of their home for the past 16 years, not to mention the remaining valuables within. Eragon assumed it was Brom's coping mechanism, to not show feeling when experiencing high stress or turmoil. On the bright side, the dark bags under the man's eyes had receded somewhat, signifying better rest than what was had before.

Brom let out a sigh, "We should go now, lad. Nothing to gain standing around."

Eragon nodded in acceptance.

And so the journey began.

**(Line Break)**

**They **walked down a slightly worn path though the Spine, throwing questions and riddles at each other, shadowed by a distant flying dragon. Brom was the most triumphant out of the three in the riddles, Saphira's wisdom and knowledge not quite equal to the old Rider. Brom smirked at Eragon's and Saphira's increasingly frustrated state from the man's dominance, desperate for the exuberant feeling that was accompanied with victory.

"This is child's play!" the eldest man crowed, "don't tell me that the great Rider and dragon are to be defeated by an old, decaying man?"

Eragon scowled, his lips pressing together and his brows furrowing. Saphira released a snort of flame, scaring off courageous birds who were daring enough to come into her near vicinity.

_Saphira, let us unite. It is time we end Brom's gloating._

_Yes, it is time, _Saphira's voice was full of animosity borne from her draconian pride being wounded. Severely.

Eragon and Saphira's minds united, and put together their collective knowledge and threw the most complex riddle they could think of.

Saphira spoke with barely contained frustration,

_You own me, but you do not know me,_

_You can buy me, but you will not use me,_

_I stand solemnly before you, never moving,_

_A gift I am to the unassuming,_

_Who am I?_

Brom scratched his beard, running over the words in his head. Eragon could not contain his smile at the man's stumped expression. Brom threw a glare at Eragon, unwilling to give in to the pair of young heroes. His grip on his staff tightened slightly, he was now the one frustrated.

He sighed, his eyes roaming around freely at the scenery of the peaceful woods. The leaves lay at the forest floor, decomposing. It was nearly winter, and a bitter reminder was given from the chilling zephyr that blew into the human's and half-human's faces, freezing their noses and bringing a rosy color to their cheeks.

Brom sighed in defeat, "Fine, I give in. What is the answer?"

Eragon and Saphira spoke as one, mentally and physically alike, "**I am a grave.**"

The man slapped the palm of his hand to his face, cursing his unknowing aloud. Eragon and Saphira grinned widely, content at their win against the veteran.

Brom eyed Eragon, since Saphira was in the distant skies, with exasperation. He shook his head lightly and ran his hand once more through his beard, combing a few wild hairs back into line.

"Tell me, boy, what have the two of you been taught so far? I believe we should not waste our traveling by asking each other questions of mundane subjects. It is time for your training to resume."

Eragon looked off into the distance, his eyes landing in two mountains that they were to pass through. He then proceeded to go on a monologue about their teachings with the Brom he knew before, and in Ellesméra, the Elven capital in Du Weldenvarden. He quickly explained all the branches of magic they had learned, the fluency of the Ancient Language that both Rider and Dragon had, and the duels Eragon had with Vanir, the Elf who had used to insult Eragon in the most hurtful ways thought up of. There was a time when he had to pause from a sudden onslaught of tears when speaking of his most recent teachers, Oromis and Glaedr. When questioned why he had an unexpected rise of emotions, Eragon described Oromis's deaths, or in Glaedr's case a loss of the physical body.

Brom gently rested a hand on Eragon's shoulder, his eyes expressing a deep sympathy. Eragon mumbled a thank you, then walked on in silence. He began speaking once more when his tears were dried and his soul comforted.

"That is about it. There could be a few subjects I could have forgotten to mention, but I digress."

Brom let out a little 'hmph', "I did not expect your training to be this advanced. It appears as if Oromis sped up your studies, to get you back on the battlefield, no doubt," he paused, thinking back on his own lessons with Oromis, "there is not much more I could teach you, unfortunately. You would have to go to Ellesméra to further your training."

Eragon was slightly shocked, he hadn't expected Brom to not know any more than he did, "Then it seems we shall travel on the road talking about mundane subjects, and duel a bit, less I forget how to wield the blade."

Brom snapped his fingers, "That reminds me. Son, you are without blade, yes?"

Eragon nodded mutely.

A grin was brought to Brom's face, "Then you can take mine."

Reaching behind him to retrieve a wrapped object, Brom paused on the road. Eragon stood next to him, realization dawning.

Finally retrieving the hidden item, Brom handed it to Eragon, "Open it, boy. Its contents are yours."

"Thank you, Brom," Eragon opened the package, revealing a red sheathe with enchanting decoration. There were dragons on its edges, breathing fire and creating a frame around the phrase '_to let the red rivers flow'_. The handle that stuck out of the sheathe was wrapped in twisted metal, ensuring a great grip. The pommel was a dragon's clawed hand, gripping an enormous ruby. There was a moderate amount of energy reserves in the gem. When he removed the blade from its sheathe, a gleaming, crimson sword flashed in the air with smooth grace, rivaled only by _Brisingr_. When examined closer, the symbol for '_Zar'roc_' was on the lower end of the blade. It was one-handed, and made for slashing cutting through enemies through brute force.

He sheathed the blade, and tied the sheathe to the belt on his waist, "I will return it, someday. Hopefully by then its previous owner's deeds will be cleansed through the freedom it shall bring."

Brom waved his hand in a dismissive manner, "You need not return it. It should belong to a true Rider, not one such as I."

Eragon looked up at Brom and nodded, without words to express his thankfulness, even though this moment has occurred once before.

The two spent the rest of the day walking and conversing, checking the map occasionally to stay on course. The world around them changed from woodlands to a valley between the two mountains Eragon had seen earlier, birds flying about, oblivious to Saphira flying higher above. The mountains leaked water from wounds created from thousands of years of erosion. Grass covered the ground they traversed, some areas worn from grazing deers, or traversing wolves. The trees were scattered few and far, yet still present. Stretching branches were malformed limbs, twisting at odd angles, bare. In the distance a river was heard, the Anora. To reach Yazuac, and soon after Gil'ead, they would have to cross the river that separated Carvahall and the northern reaches of the Spine from the rest of Alagaësia. They stopped at a cave inside the valley. Thunder rumbled in the sky, and angry, gray clouds formed in the air.

Brom summoned a werelight to his side, "This should be a good place to stay for the night. Doesn't go deep, and provides shelter from the comin rain."

Eragon grunted in agreement, and called down Saphira from the skies. They knew from experience that storms did not bode well for dragons. When they had flown to Vroengard two years from now, a storm had hit them. The fast winds had assisted slightly in arriving to the capital of the Riders, but had worn out Saphira quickly. Not to mention the threat of lightning striking her or Eragon, felling them, leaving them to sink to the depths of the sea.

"Gather some firewood, Eragon. We're going to hole up here for the night." Brom said, his back turned to the Blue Rider, examining the sturdiness of a rock overhang.

"Very well. I'll return soon enough." Eragon departed from the cave. He had to duck his head at the exit, since he was about a head taller than it.

It seemed that his insane luck had worn out, for as soon as he stepped a foot out of the cave, a heavy downpour descended. He was soaked in seconds, and shivering not long after.

Eragon mumbled curses on the treacherous walk to the tree that stood like an ashen hand grasping for the Sun. Each step he took was a wet squelch, his boots filled nearly to the brim full of water. He made a mental note to enchant them with water resistance when he had time.

When he reached the soaked tree, he irritably muttered a _kvistr jierda_, and caught the branches that fell towards the ground. He grunted at the weight, almost tipping over from the slick ground and the sudden imbalance. He stretched his left leg back last second, steadying himself. He glared at the sky, half-heartedly attempting to scare off the rain.

A droplet of rain collided with his eye.

He flinched his eye shut, and hurried back to the dry cave, nearly falling twice more. The air hurtled at him, harassing him and blowing his hair in every which direction. The rain now felt like icy shards of glass with its every touch.

Water fell from the soaked Rider, letting out 'split-splats' that bounced around the cave's walls. Brom looked up and snorted at Eragon's appearance. His hair was spiked and matted, giving him a wild-barbaric-elf look. His clothes stuck to his body, showing strong arms and a chiseled chest. He was broader than the elves found in Du Weldenvarden, and he was slightly more rugged, similar to a dirtied, golden-trimmed mirror.

Branches piled at Brom's feet with a loud clamor. The ex-Rider muttered in thanks for Eragon's efforts, and turned to start making a fire. He dried the firewood with a few select words of the Ancient Language, then procured a flint and steel, and struck the two tools together, creating a spark. The branches caught fire, and the flames ate greedily at its fuel. Brom warmed his hands, rubbing them together and holding them out to the fire.

"We'll be getting snow soon enough, hm?" he asked the other human.

"Yes, yes we will," came a chattering voice, "I don't know how it is not snowing as is. It is certainly cold enough."

"Well, warm yourself by the fire, boy. It would be quite unfortunate if you caught a cold with this weather."

Eragon shuffled to the source of heat, as suggested. He had already used a convenient spell to dry his clothes. It was too easy, life without magic would be unimaginable after living in the midst of it for nearly 2 years.

Brom and Eragon side by side, with Saphira's body curving around them as a wall of blue scales, making the cave seem smaller than it was. The three of them sat in silence, still having trouble truly comprehending all that has happened throughout the past week. Time travel, the dead of the past coming alive, a son disappearing then reappearing claiming he was two and a half years older than he was **and **he was now a dragon rider.

The scarce stalactites and other rock formations dripped water, creating pools that reflected the world around it. There was a constant drip echoing throughout, and it was calming, making their minds clear and their thoughts slow.

"I'll take first watch," said Brom, interrupting the silence, "you get your sleep in. There's a long trek to be had starting early in the morn."

Eragon nodded thankfully, and turned to Saphira. The great dragon lifted a wing, and Eragon entered the space provided. He huddled up against her warmth and yawned.

_Good night, Saphira._

_Good night, Eragon._

Her wing lowered and closed off Eragon from the world, enveloping him in a cocoon of darkness.

**(Line Break)**

**Usage of the Ancient Language:**

_Zar'roc - _'Misery'

_Brisingr - _'Fire'

_Kvistr jierda - _'Branch break'


	5. AN

**_This is not a chapter!_**

**Hello, readers. As stated above, this is not a chapter. I would just like to say that the next chapter will be slower coming. I have obtained a hand injury, which is hindering my ability to type. I apologize for this.**

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**


	6. Stories of Ruin

**A/N: Welcome, readers. I have only now realized how cringey chapter three was, with Eragon and Brom being so out of character. For that, I apologize ****whole-heartedly. On a side note, my condition hasn't really improved, so that is something that is quite... unfortunate? I don't know. At least I have found it within myself to create this chapter, as I have been unmotivated to do so for the past four months(?). Also, I am sorry for making the mistake of posting the previous A/N. I understand it has upset some, and I will do better in the future (which includes no more A/Ns, if that is what my readers wish). That is all.**

**-Isdrin the Wanderer**

**(I own nothing but my imagination and the Original Characters)**

**"**_Hello." - Ancient Language_

**"Hello." - Empasis on a word (or beginning word of a chapter/POV change)**

_Hello - Mind-speech_

**Chapter 5- Gil'ead**

**Eragon** was gently lulled from his sleep from the sounds of stirring and the humming of a jolly tune. He blinked his eyes drowsily, a lazy attempt to ward off the sleep that threatened to overtake him once more. He yawned.

"Good morning," Brom spoke, his humming coming to an abrupt halt. Eragon rose from his sleeping position. The founder of the Varden, a fascinating man, was across from him and stirring a stone pot that gave off an alluring smell. It was filled with the vegetables and small amount of salt they had brought with them on their journey, no doubt. His gaze did not once raise to meet his waking son's. "Hungry, I hope?"

"I am," murmured Eragon, distracted. He looked outside of their residence and saw a clear, blue sky. The sun had barely risen, casting shadows within the valley. Animals had woken hours before, eagles and hawks watching the land with keen sight, waiting for prey to emerge. "Why didn't you wake me for my watch?"

A frown creased Brom's features, "You've recently battled at Urû'bean, to end this thrice-cursed war. You needed rest."

Eragon opened his mouth to argue, then slowly shut it. There was no point in arguing over something so minuscule. He let out a silent sigh, "Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated."

Brom did not react to the thanks, instead he waved over Eragon. "Eat. We've a long journey to be had."

Eragon nodded in gratitude, and rose from his deerskin bedroll that they 'borrowed' for the unforeseeable future. As if he were gliding, he crossed the granite floor. Brim retreated to sit in his own cot, nursing and blowing his steaming bowl of stew. Eragon soon followed suit, with bowl and spoon in hand. Behind him, Saphira let out a husky dragon chuckle.

"What?" he questioned. He dropped onto his bedroll with a small 'thump'. The stew sloshed on the sides of the bowl, yet was otherwise contained.

_Nothing, little one, _Saphira rumbled, mirth coloring her voice, _just the remembrance of a distant, amusing memory._

Eragon frowned slightly in puzzlement, and scooped up a chunk of potato. He bit down, and nearly spat out his food. Saphira's laugh magnified, shaking the cave walls and disturbing a few droplets of water, creating a mini rain shower.

"I forgot your food was rancid, Brom," he muttered, shaking water from his hair. He looked at the bowl of death soup with distaste. Brom huffed at him, his eyes dancing with controlled amusement. Saphira calmed down enough to end the cascade of mineral-filled water. He lowered-or raised, rather- a glare at his sapphire companion, "and why hadn't you warned me. Do you take delight in making me suffer?" Despite his words, his voice was warm. He couldn't possibly be mad at the partner-of-his-heart-and-mind for long.

_Nay, I just enjoy watching you act foolish, and at times ignorant_, Saphira's maw was stretched back in a draconic grin, her teeth gleaming in the light. It would be a menacing sight, if Eragon had not lived by her side for the past 3 years.

Eragon sighed in feigned exasperation. Inwardly, he emblazoned this moment to his memory. Here, he had his father and the one who shared his soul, in the same cave as he. There would be a fairth depicting this moment in the future, he would make sure of it.

Brom clasped his hands together, "We should travel two leagues minimum today. It is time we reach Therinsford, and eventually Gil'ead."

The light-hearted and mirthful mood soured and turned grave. Eragon's boyish grin smoothed out, until the contours of his face expressed a solemnity only felt by one who experienced a balance of worry and longing. Even Saphira's toothy smile vanished.

"Yes," Eragon said out loud, for the sake of Brom,"it is time we left. Are you prepared to take us flying, Saphira?"

_I will be when you saddle me_, remarked Saphira. She flexed the muscles between her wings in preparation and stretched in a cat-like fashion. Her back rubbed against the wall.

Eragon nodded and rolled up his cot.

"It's time we save our Elven princess."

**(Line Break)**

**Eragon **stepped back, admiring and checking his handiwork for flaws. Saphira rolled her shoulders under his gaze, adjusting the saddle to rest more comfortably on her back.

"I think that will suffice. You ready?" Brom and Saphira gave their affirmatives. Eragon gave a mighty leap, and climbed the rest of the way up Saphira's side. He sat on the saddle, and began strapping himself in. Brom followed, albeit at the fraction of his speed. The entire climb up, the bearded man grumbled about old age and aching joints. He was promptly chuckled at. When the eldest of the trio at last secured himself, he clutched Eragon's waist moments before Saphira launched into the air with a resounding bellow. She and Eragon reveled at the feeling of the wind in their faces, and agreed on enjoying the flight for as long as possible, despite the dire circumstances. Saphira slowed to a gentle pace, allowing the freedom of the open skies to course through their heart and soul. Brom allowed himself a small, reserved smile, still refusing to be unsecretive. The habit would not leave him, it seems.

Brom pointed south and slightly to the east, _That is where Therinsford lay. At this speed, we'll make it when night claims hold over the sky. _

_And then we purchase Snowfire and Cadoc_, Eragon paused,_ They are the mightiest steeds in Alagaësia, aside from the trained horses in Du Weldenvarden. They served us well._

_Duly noted_, Brom said, his eyes searching over the passing trees. The travelers went quiet, enjoying the opportunity to be in the presence of the ones they held dear. Courageous birds found themselves flying next to Saphira's wings, occasionally retreating agilely from the dragon's snapping maw.

_Indulge me, what is Arya to you? _Brom finally said, breaking the silence that had lasted for hours. Curiosity leaked through their mind-link. Brom had noticed that he was rather passionate in saving the Elven Ambassador. However, the boy had neglected to mention why when he was telling the tale of his studies. In fact, he had hardly mentioned anything that revolved around his life outside of learning. Perhaps his son inherited his secretive nature?

_Well_, Eragon started, hesitant. He looked down hard at the saddle grip, brows furrowing faintly. _I hold her as close to my heart as I do Saphira. Be that as it may, she has rejected my courting attempts, so I have settled for friendship. I am content with that. _He ended his short explanation sharply, unwilling delve deeper into the matter.

_I see_, Brom said, habitually raising a hand to stroke his beard. He hastily brought it back around Eragon as the wind threatened to throw him into an awkward position. _I apologize. For bringing up a sore topic, and for passing down my horrible luck with women unto you. _

_It is quite alright, there was no way for you to have known, _Eragon looked back, eyeing Brom thoughtfully, _perhaps you would accept a trade? Information for information? I admit I do not know nearly as much about my own father as I should. The most I know about you is hearsay from the Elves and the Varden._

_I second that, _Saphira chimed in, her curious voice belying her mature demeanor. Despite being wise in mind, she was still a hatchling in the terms of dragons.

_Very well, ask away__. And no, there will only be one question to share between the two of you, _he said, fending off an imminent bombardment of questions. Dragon and Rider retreated from Brom's mind and merged in a way that transcended physical bounds. Like they had done the day prior, they compiled their curiosity and multitude of questions and chose one best fit for the both of their desires.

_Perhaps we should ask a question of his childhood? _Eragon remarked. _It would be entertaining to discover if Brom had pestered his elders. Quite ironical._

_Hm, it would indeed. _Saphira speculated. _Although, we are in the middle of a war, so the question should be beneficial to our knowledge, don't you think?_

_Yes, you are right. How about a question abo-_

_We haven't all day. Therinsford is in viewing distance, _Brom cut in to the cogitating pair. The rider and dragon duo startled from their covert conversation, surprised they had covered such a great deal of land in such a short time. Sure enough, a mountain was bestrewn with little, brown dots.

_Amazing. It had taken us days when we had first taken this trip... _Eragon marveled, his eyes wide with surprise.

_We have grown, little one_, Saphira affirmed, _However, we should not allow this to make us overly comfident in our abilities to the point of incompetence. I need not remind you what had happened when we were last so sure of our abilities, I believe._

Eragon quickly mellowed, memories of an indomitable figure standing before him, a hungry gleam in his eye.

Gritting his teeth, he uttered lowly, "We shall not."

Brom's tilted his head lightly in confusion. "Pardon?"

_Before the Fall, what was life like on Vroengard? _Saphira intoned evenly. _We hadn't thought to glean any information on it from Oromis and Glaedr. We were far too enthralled in our studies._

Brom remained skeptical, yet entertained the inquiry. _As you know, Vroengard is the island that held the capital of the dragon riders - Doru Araeba. _He paused, gathering memories he'd rather leave buried. _It__ was beautiful. There were gargantuan fountains, gushing pure water that reflected the sun's gaze. The halls were of white marble, polished to an impenetrable sheen. Light reflected off the scales of dragons of all the colors of the rainbow, then more. The aloof elves themselves had struggled keeping a small smile from their face. It was the epitome of bliss. _He sighed lowly, looking southeast - where the ruins of Doru Araeba lay. _In the city, there was no currency. Those who needed items simply made them through magic or traded with others. This was one of the tests the young one's faced. Without a certain efficiency with magic or language skills - a Rider should have both - there was no chance that they would make it as a Rider. However, as they were already to a dragon, there was no way the Elders would truly allow them to die. This was one challenge that was widely hated and amusing._

The storyteller let out a small chuckle, sorrow dancing within his eyes.

Eragon sympathized with the man. It was doubtless that the hardened war hero felt the loss of all his comrades - one hundred years after the fact, even. To see those whom you called your friends and family fall from within certainly would take a toll on the soul. Along with losing your dragon, it was a wonder how he was still willful enough to continue living - let alone make a giant rebel organization.

_We are nearly a league away from Therinsford. I shall land in the clearing there. _Saphira spoke, sending a mental image of a rocky glade. At its center was a stone formation that rose nearly as high as the trees that surrounded it. Birds sat over an arch, some flying to the haphazard city in the east.

_Very well. As unfortunate as this is, you'll need to stay here. I will shout for you if any trouble is encountered, but we should be fine. _

Eragon said in a calm voice to soothe his partner. _When we retrieve Cadoc and Snowfire, we will head straight for Gil'ead - after we buy supplies, of course._

Saphira sighed. _Soon we need not part. I do hope that time comes swiftly._

Eragon's expression eased and he patted the side of her armored neck fondly. No Saphira glanced behind at him and blinked gratefully.

Flapping her wings to ease their descent, Saphira landed gracefully on the rocks littered across the grassy earth. Despite this, it still jarred her passengers, eliciting a grumble of a complaint from Brom.

"All this activity is making my bones creak." He eyed the ground below wearily. "My poor knees can't bare much more of this."

Eragon grinned. "Fret not, you will have the noblest steed in the Spine when we reach Therinsford."

"So I hear..."

Shaking his head in gaiety, Eragon turned to Saphira. "I will contact you when our business is finished."

She centered her eye on her Rider licked his tunic, careful as to not tear it with her barbed tongue. _Very well. If you have the coin, please do buy some seasoned venison. Treat me to something before we inevitably part for the next few days._

With a final pat on his partner's snout, Eragon departed.

_As you wish, my Diamond Heart._


End file.
